


Stress Buster

by LoadedRevolver



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, POV Female Character, Wall Sex, f/m - Freeform, hints of D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2035461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedRevolver/pseuds/LoadedRevolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when your partner in crime is stressed out? Set the night after 'Battleground'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stress Buster

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a 'Bedtime Story' over on Tumblr. My usual smut of choice is slashfic, but I'm being persuaded to write het on request. It's starting to be fun.....

I knew you were in one of _those_ moods when I got your text that afternoon. The original plan was for me to attend the house show with a friend, and then I would go back to meet you after the show. But that had been before Battleground and the all out fist fight you had with Seth. Ever since then, you'd been in _that_ mood.  
_Come to the arena_ , the text had said. _I want you to dress appropriately. Come straight to my locker room. If you are not there by bell time, you're going to be in a world of trouble._

So now I found myself dressed just this side of slutty; a skirt so short that I could have been arrested for public indecency, a simple black tank top and heels that added an extra five inches to my height. My hair was loose, and I wore his favourite perfume. My heels clicked as I walked through the corridors backstage, looking at the rows of numbered doors.

Of course, Seth had managed to cry to Daddy for the biggest dressing room there.

I kept watch for the door that lead to your room, mentally checking off the names: _Damien Sandow....Dolph Ziggler....Cesaro....Roman Reigns...._  
And then there I was, standing outside your dressing room door. Although I'd been in this position before, I had always been nervous. Mainly because I never quite knew what exactly was going to happen. I raised my hand, and knocked on the door in the exact rhythm you'd taught me. "Get in here!" you yelled, and I knew that I was in for it.

I hadn't even had time to close the door before you crossed the room in what seemed like three strides, and slammed me back against it. One hand came up and wrapped around my throat, the other reached behind me and the door was locked shut. Your eyes were an icy blue, filled with a mix of rage and lust, and I knew that since you couldn't(and wouldn't) beat the shit out of me, then fucking the anger away was the next best thing. You kept your hand on my throat, and ran the other one up along my leg, nails scraping over my skin and making me shiver. You kept going higher,palm skimming over my bare ass, and you smirked at me.

"Naughty girl. You actually went out in public wearing a skirt that short and with no panties on underneath?"

I nodded, trying not to wriggle as your hand kept rubbing over my ass, moving down and between my cheeks. If I did move, then there'd be hell to pay.  
"You're so turned on right now, aren't you? I'll bet any money that if I put my hand between your legs, you'll be fucking dripping."

Your hand came back around and dipped between them, fingers pushing roughly into me. You weren't wrong. I loved it when you were in a mood like this, demanding and getting what you wanted from me. You knew how to play me, and you were a maestro. Your thumb rubbed against my clit as your fingers pumped in and out of me. Thank god the door was behind me; it was practically the only thing holding me upright as you continued to finger fuck me. "You don't want my fingers, though....you want my cock, don'tcha? You want me to fuck you so hard you can't walk straight....so hard that you'll feel it for days.".

All I could do was nod as best I could as you still held my throat. You moved your hand away, and all but growled at me. "If you move, I swear....." The implied thread hung heavy between us,and I groaned as I felt your fingers slide out of me. You brought your hand up, sucked my juices off of your fingers before making quick work of your jeans. They ended up pooling around your ankles, and I knew I had only two choices here. I could take this brutal fucking and like it. You roughly yanked me towards you, lifting me up and pushing me backwards against the nearest wall. My legs automatically wrapped around your waist, and I let loose a long moan as you pushed into me.

"And don't even think about being quiet. I want you to let everyone to know who's fucking you. I want Steph and Trips to be able to hear you."

You fucked me so hard I saw stars. My back rubbed against the wall and I knew I'd have an impressive burn there. Jesus, I loved it when you took me like this. I didn't look at the various scars and rug burns as wounds. To me, they were badges, as if they were your way of saying to anyone who saw them "She's _mine_ ".

I am not ashamed to admit that I moaned like a two dollar whore as you fucked me. And that I didn't give a damn if Vincent Kennedy McMahon himself heard me. The locker room was like a sauna, sweat pouring off of us both. The sound of skin slapping against skin, you damn near growling as I made as much noise as you'd asked me to. White heat pooled in my stomach, the near constant pressure on my clit sending fireworks through my body as you kept to the brutal pace you'd started with. I clawed at your shoulders, the tape covering your injured one fraying as my nails scraped against it.  I wasn't going to last much longer, and you knew it. "Don't......don't you fucking dare cum before me...." you grit out, your forehead against mine, hips slamming into me so hard and fast that I could feel bruises being pulled out of me.

The first sign that you were going to cum was your breath heaving against my face. Your hips slammed against me, your cock going hard and deep into me. You buried your face in my shoulder, and the room narrowed down to just you and your voice.

"Fuck....fuck....fuck....."  
I screwed my eyes shut, trying as hard as I could to hold off my fast approaching orgasm until you told me to cum, but it wasn't going to be easy with your cock beating a tattoo on my clit. And then the dam broke. Your voice was raspy, filled with lust as you growled into my ear.

"Fuck...fuck...cum....cum...fucking cum already..."

I threw back my head, and all out moaned so loudly I thought I heard a mirror crack. Waves of pleasure washed over me, and I came so hard I could feel my abs clench. You bit into my shoulder, some inhuman noise pulled from you as you buried yourself in me one last time. We stayed there for a few moments, trying to catch our breath. I managed to stagger towards the bathroom, and I made an attempt at cleaning myself up, before going into my purse and taking out a fresh pair of panties.

"You weren't thinking of wearing that fucking thing, were you?", you asked.

"Well....yes. I don't want to traumatize some little Cena fan by accidentally flashing my pussy at 'em."

You just grinned, and held out your hand. "Those stay with me. You can come back here after the show, and see if you can earn back the right to wear them."


End file.
